


At Home in the Dark With You

by ummmmm (sumhowe_sailing)



Category: Wooden Overcoats
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, a tiny bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 10:18:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11987778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumhowe_sailing/pseuds/ummmmm
Summary: Picks up where the Funn Fragment left off.(All I'm saying is, you shouldn't leave these two in the dark and desperate for company if you don't want silly fanfics to follow)





	At Home in the Dark With You

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at writing these two, sorry if anything seems too out-of-character.

 

He had to admit, in spite of the incredible awkwardness of standing there in the dark eating an (incredibly old) carrot while the Funn siblings scrutinized him, it wasn’t the worst encounter he’d had with them. It wasn't even the worst one this week. In fact, compared to some of their recent experiences, this one seemed to be going quite well. At least nobody seemed to be in imminent danger from, say, a cherry bomb, or an over-zealous assistant. Not wanting to spoil it just yet, he forced himself to finish the carrot—the polite thing to do. But by the time he was done with it, the awkward silence had gone on long enough to gain momentum, and he had no idea how to make this visit any better.

In a way, it was lucky that a clap of thunder and a flash of lightning shattered the stillness. He—and was he just imagining it, or did Rudyard…?—jumped, trying to suppress a small noise of distress. Antigone rolled her eyes.

“Well, Chapman, if you _are_ staying here, then you two can keep each other company and I can go back to my mortuary. _Goodnight_.” The door slammed before he even had time to realize she was leaving.

“Oh, er, goodnight,” he mumbled to the patch of darkness where she had been.

“She can’t hear you, Chapman.”

“Not the point.”

“Then what _was_ the point?” In the beam of light he could see Rudyard narrowing his eyes. He couldn’t seriously think this was part of some plot too?

“For goodness’ sake Rudyard, I was just saying goodnight.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the polite—you know what, why don’t we drop it?”

“Why don’t _you_ drop it?”

“Happily, if you will.” He couldn’t believe they were having this argument. It was like they were children. He didn’t understand how it was that every time Rudyard started some petty nonsense, he couldn’t resist to sinking down to his level and playing his game. No one else brought this side of him out, but Rudyard…Rudyard unfailingly brought out this—and a great many other things he usually managed to keep to himself. If anyone else was around, he probably could have held himself together, but when it was just the two of them, there was no reason to pretend. Truth be told, he enjoyed this ridiculous squabbling. After being so upstanding and professional all day, it was kind of cathartic.

He was so wrapped up in this train of thought, that he almost didn’t notice Rudyard hadn’t replied. He was more surprised by this than by the way Rudyard definitely did jump at the next flash of lightning. Was…was that why Antigone had been up here when he’d arrived? Was that what she’d meant?

“Are you afraid of storms, Rudyard?”

“Of course not!” He tried not to let Rudyard see him wince. Of course. Here he’d thought maybe they could bond a little over something they had in common—something neither of them could possibly turn into a competition—and yet Rudyard had taken it as another attack.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—it’s alright if you are. I—” maybe if he was just honest? Maybe then Rudyard would stop glaring at him and they could just help each other through this? “Truth is, Rudyard, I’m not very fond of them myself.”

“Oh _really_? I hadn’t noticed. Not as if you’ve been jumping at every little thing since you got here.”

Nope. That wasn’t going to work. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Suddenly the prospect of being alone in the dark was almost more appealing than staying here and listening to the venom in Rudyard’s voice.

“Okay. Okay. Forget it. I’ll just g—”

Another flash of lightning and a boom of thunder so loud he could have sworn the house was shaking. Somehow when it was over he found himself in Rudyard’s arms. Strange. He didn’t remember reaching for him.

“Chapman?” Oh great. Pity.

“Shut it.”

“Chapman I’m—sorry.”

That took him so by surprise that he forgot to draw back—forgot to let go of the infuriating (but surprisingly warm) man in front of him.

“Chapman, I didn’t mean—it’s just—”

“Forget it, Rudyard,” he said, letting go at last. He may have been imagining it, but he thought that Rudyard seemed almost reluctant to let him go. Strange again. “Just forget it.”

“No, I…I want to explain. I didn’t mean…it’s just. Well.” Chapman raised an eyebrow. Eventually, Rudyard cleared his throat and began to speak in a rush, as if saying everything in one breath would make the monstrous task of being nice to Eric Chapman easier.

“It’s just that I’m a little on edge tonight, not because I’m afraid of the dark it’s just the lightning I keep thinking I see him and well that’s really not the point, but I’m sorry.” A deep breath, and then he finished, almost calmly, “I know what it’s like to be afraid and I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

“I—” Chapman was speechless. That was…a lot more than he’d expected. He had several questions, but he didn’t want to push his luck. “It’s okay, Rudyard. Thanks.”

“You don’t have to go.”

“What?”

“Before that last…you said you were leaving. You don’t have to.” The look Rudyard gave him now was almost pleading. It was most certainly endearing. “You can stay. If you want.”

“I’d like that.”

He remembered stepping well away from Rudyard a few moments earlier. Which was why he was confused to find himself so near him again. As if they had drifted together during the course of that conversation. Strange. It was all so strange. And exciting. And when the next rumble of thunder came, it felt perfectly natural to find Rudyard tangled in his arms again. This time he noticed how terribly thin Rudyard was, how fragile he felt. And how soft his hair was against Chapman’s cheek.

“Chapman?”

“Hmmm?”

“Are you…smelling my hair?”

Oh. Oh yes, he definitely was. When had that happened?

“Sorry.” He blushed fiercely, glad that Rudyard couldn’t see. And glad that, in spite of that, Rudyard didn’t pull away from him.

“That’s—ah, hem—that’s… fine. I don’t mind.”

“Thank you.” He wasn’t sure that Rudyard could hear him. He didn’t know why he had whispered that right against the top of his head. It was such a silly thing to do. But he was so grateful for this moment.

“Chapman?” Damn. Rudyard had changed his mind—was pulling away. No, no he wasn’t, not really. Just enough to look up into Chapman’s face, a question burning in his eyes. His eyes. They were so beautiful when they weren’t glaring daggers at him.

“Rudyard, can I…?” he never managed to finish the question. He wasn’t sure if Rudyard had stood a little straighter, or if he’d leaned down. All he knew was that suddenly their lips were brushing together and he was dizzy and excited and his insides were writhing and it was all he could do to keep standing there, holding Rudyard Funn as close as he could. And then Rudyard’s fingers were in his hair, pulling him closer still, and he forgot everything else.

Somehow they made it upstairs to Rudyard’s room, and as they lay on the floor—he made mental note to find out _why_ Rudyard didn’t have a bed, and to fix that—wrapped tightly round each other, the storm raged on. And for once, the darkness did not bother him. They were so consumed in each other that they no longer noticed the lightning, didn’t even register the thunder. And when they finally calmed down enough to sleep, it was a pleasant sort of afterthought to see the storm had ceased.


End file.
